


Never Felt So Real

by stareaters



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stareaters/pseuds/stareaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter rides the subway home in the morning after a long night at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Felt So Real

It was unusual for Peter to wake up to the sun on his face, instead of his roommates crashing about the loft. His body, heavy with sleep, refused to move so he simply lay there and enjoyed the warmth of the blankets he was wrapped in.

  
The ungodly annoying ring of a phone that belonged back in the 80’s jolted Peter awake. Still bleary eyed and half asleep, he managed to pick up the phone and silence the noise.

  
“Hello sir, this is your 8am wake up call as requested last night.” The voice on the other end of the phone was too perky for 8am. Peter rudely hung up the phone before thanking the owner of that voice, and his surroundings finally started sinking in. 

  
The room was furnished generically with a bureau a few paintings, a nightstand on either side of the bed and some of the ugliest lamps he had ever seen. He was naked, he realized and absentmindedly scratched himself. With a violent twitch the last layers of sleep fell from his body and he got up to explore the rest of the hotel room he decided he must be in. Taped to the door was a note, addressed to him, written on hotel stationary in scrawling feminine script.

  
_Peter,_

  
_Thank you for answering my call last night, I know you usually only meet during scheduled appointments. I left the money on the table, and your clothes are in the bathroom._

_Check out is at noon. Enjoy the room till then._

  
_Regards,_   
_Regina_

  
Last night returned to him in flashes of hot flesh and perfume that smelled of lilac and moonlight. The hotel paper crushed easily in his hand as he strolled to the window to take in the early morning view of uptown Boston. With a cat like stretch and another absentminded scratch to his crotch Peter decided to shower and head home rather than stay in the hotel all morning. Although he would have to remember to thank Regina for offering him a chance to sleep, usually his clients kicked him out before the sweat of their activities cooled.

  
After using what felt like the Hotel’s entire supply of hot water Peter dressed in his clothes from last night and grabbed the envelope off the table, beneath which had been the keycard he would need to turn in when checking out. Not bothering to open it he shoved the envelope into his pocket. Regina had always paid in full, and often paid extra on those occasions when Peter would meet her outside of scheduled appointments. He closed the door silently behind him, mindful of any other hotel patrons who might still be asleep, and headed to the lobby to check out.

  
Exchanging brief pleasantries with the desk clerk, who must have been the overly perky voice that woke him at 8am, Peter turned in the keycard and exited the hotel. The heat wasn’t unexpected as it seemed to sear his skin the second he was outside of the comfortable climate controlled atmosphere of the hotel, but that doesn’t mean it was any less unpleasant. Working quickly he navigated himself to the cool, well 5 or so degrees cooler than above ground, shelter of the subway. Pulling his T pass from his wallet Peter slid through the turnstiles and headed towards the platform for the train that would bring him home, anxious to be home so that he could get Wendy’s scolding over with. She hated when he took clients without her permission, but he figured he could give her the extra cash from Regina to help smooth her feathers down.

  
The train arrived on schedule and he made sure to board the least occupied car that he could find, and as luck would have it he managed a car with only a handful of people with ample available seating. As he sat he took stock of the other people riding the train with him, most seemed to be people on their way to work. Except there was one younger boy, he couldn’t have been more than 17, sitting at the far end of the train. Peter thought the boy was actually quite attractive for his age. He had hair the color of Peter’s favorite dark chocolate; he looked short, but seemed to have some muscle on his small frame. His skin was almost Ivory white but you could see that he was getting a light tan, meaning he must spend a lot of time in the sun. The boy’s hands were slender, and Peter noticed that the seemed very dirty which made Peter curious because other than the hands this boy seemed very clean.

  
The boy was holding some kind of book on his lap and looking around the train as if he was seeing everything for the first time. Peter had perfected the art of watching without looking as part of his job, well his day job if you could call it that, so he continued to watch the boy as he dug some kind of case from his bag. Peter saw the case open and looked puzzled as the boy pulled out a couple of pencils, why would he have to carry a case of pencils with him?  
Carefully juggling the pencils and their case the boy opened the book on his lap, and began to flip through pages. It was hard to see at this distance, but the pages seemed to be filled with beautiful black and white scenes of the city and its inhabitants. The pages stopped flipping and the boy started working one of the pencils across the page, concentration filled his face, and he would briefly look up scan the surroundings.

  
“A beautiful artist, how cliché.” Peter muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and leaned back waiting for his stop to be called.  
He couldn’t tell how long it had been, probably only a few minutes, but it felt like longer, but his stop was announced and he rose from the seat quickly so he could get off the train with no hassle. Looking around he noticed that boy, the artist, was gone.

  
There would be no point in trying to sneak into the loft to avoid Wendy so he slid the immense iron factory door loudly into place and walked confidently. 12 paces to the safety of his room, he could practically feel the emptiness of the room. If he was lucky Wendy was out shopping.

  
8 paces to safety.

  
Squeals of old hinges ricochet around the room.

  
5 paces to safety. 

  
Sweet metal clangs of soft footsteps upon narrow stairs.

  
His hand on the doorknob, just a breadth away from being safe.

  
“Oi! Pillow biter! What in the bloody name of the Queen do you think you are doing trying to sneak in like a virgin that was out past curfew?” Just the tone of those words immobilized him. His skin had become ice, he would shatter if he tried to resist.

   
Wendy Darling was not a woman to be trifled with, while she looked fragile, she was anything but. It was a fact as certain as the sky being blue that she had at least 3 knives on her at any given time. She had spent her childhood like any other young girl growing up in London, though Peter had only seen pictures of that part of her life, the years she spent in Russia erased the innocent Wendy. Replaced her with a woman as fierce as a lion, loyal as a wolf, and cunning as a snake.

  
“Care to explain yourself love?” Warm lips pressed to his temple released him from his momentary paralysis. Reaching slowly into his pocket he removed the envelope of cash.

  
“Unscheduled appointment, she paid extra. Deposit my share in my account as usual?” Offered Peter. 

  
“I’ll be putting the extra she gave you in the house-hold account. Next time, don’t take an appointment without telling me.” It was a surprisingly light punishment he thought, but he wasn’t going to argue and make it worse. Wendy stood there staring expectantly at him as he opened the door to his bedroom. Leaning down he gave her a chaste brotherly kiss on the cheek.

  
“See you at Neverland tonight.” He said stepping into his room. It wasn’t a question, Peter knew she would be there, lining up new clients for him and the other lost boys that worked for her.

  
Thick curtains on his windows gave his room the aura of a cool summer day at dusk. It was furnished even less than the hotel room, and that’s how Peter liked it. A bed to sleep in, shelves for his books, and a dresser for his clothes. It was very minimalistic. He came from nothing and thus he liked having nothing in his life. If it weren’t for Felix’s insistence he wouldn’t even live in this extravagant loft. 

  
Stripping off his clothes Peter flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. While normally he would spend the day reading, it just didn’t appeal to him today. Instead he opened the curtains allowing the sun to warm his pale skin as he relaxed. His thoughts drifted lazily through his mind, never focusing on one thing for long. Slowly his eyes fell and Peter drifted off to sleep craving the taste of chocolate.


End file.
